Chapter Twenty-Three
Minerva
I know a lot of girls grow up daydreaming about their wedding day, but I wasn’t one of them.
For one thing, I didn’t have a lot of crushes when I was younger, and to my knowledge, the few boys I did notice never liked me back.
I could wear a big poofy dress anytime if I really wanted to, which I didn’t.
Besides, weddings never struck me as the height of romance.
Even in stories and film, I liked the parts where the characters fell for each other, or overcame obstacles to stay together. Those were the interesting parts.
To be fair, my parents’ marriage didn’t inspire confidence in the institution, either.
A year ago, being subjected to a full glam squad, then crammed into this voluminous white dress with a corset and chicken cutlets, would have left me numb. I knew I didn’t want Luca, but I’d spent so long resigned to my fate that I was almost ready to roll over and accept it.
But this morning, it feels like my heart is breaking.
As in, literally cracking apart inside my chest. For the first time, I can imagine walking down the aisle toward the waiting figure of a man I love, a man I want to spend the rest of my life with—and instead, I’m walking toward Luca.
The ache isn’t just dread—it’s grief for the life I almost had, the one that finally felt like it fit the shape of me.
Dad’s grip on my elbow is firm. He walks with his chin up, never meeting my eyes, never even looking at me. I’d like to pretend that he’s feeling guilty, that he’s too ashamed to meet my eyes as he prepares to throw me to the sharks, but I know better. Vito Marino is incapable of regret.
No, he’s not sorry; he’s disgusted. I’ve been dead to him since he handed me that hundred dollar bill. If it were up to him, I’d be an outcast forever.
But Luca wants me, and my father probably owes him a lifetime of favors.
I wish I were dead to Luca too. I wish he’d let me disappear.
Dozens of faces stare up at me, unsmiling, from the pews.
I know all of these people by name, but they aren’t my people.
They’re my father’s people. Many of the men are his age, dressed in tailored suits that cost more than the average car.
I can’t always tell whether the women at their sides are their wives or their daughters.
Aldo Oliveri’s new bride is only a few years older than me.
She’s the only one whose face betrays any emotion; I can tell she feels sorry for me.
Everybody else is wearing one mask or another. Nobody else sees me.
“Eyes up,” my father hisses. “And smile, for fuck’s sake. Do you know how much trouble you put us through? Do you know what it took to get all these people here at this ungodly hour?”
I snap my head forward, but I don’t say a word.
“You’re lucky Luca still wants you, after you gave yourself to that toothless dickhead like a common slut. If I were you, I’d do my best to keep your new husband happy. When he’s done with you, I won’t take you back.”
You have no idea what you’d do if you were in my shoes. I don’t utter the words aloud, but I swear my father can hear me thinking them. He must notice the new set of my jaw. I’m no longer the little girl who could barely rasp out a defiant word. I’m someone who knows what it feels like to be loved.
More importantly, I now know I deserve love.
Once I get Kepler back, I won’t be Luca’s perfect little wife.
The thought settles warm and startling low in my belly—an unfamiliar strength uncurling like a fist finally opening.
Resolve swells inside me as I square my shoulders, and we approach the altar. Luca leers at me, then reaches over to the table beside him, where Kepler crouches in a tiny wire cage. Luca reaches through the grate and pinches Kepler so hard that he squeals.
“No!” I squeak.
My whole body jerks forward before I can think—pure instinct, pure terror, the kind of reaction you only have for someone who feels like yours.
My father’s grip tightens on my arm, hard enough to bruise. “Quiet. If you embarrass me in front of all these people, I’ll kill that fucking rodent myself. With a sharp rake. Let him bleed out slowly. And your hockey player? Fucking Siberia.”
Before I can stop them, tears roll down my cheeks. I can see my future unfurling before me. Luca and my family have figured out how to bring me back in line. All they have to do is threaten the people and creatures I care about, and I’ll do whatever they ask.
And I can already see that it will never end. Luca can use Kepler against me again and again, bending me to his will, making me capitulate time after time. And it won’t stop with Kepler. If Luca can get me pregnant, he’ll use our children against me. He’ll bend me until I break.
Even knowing this, I can’t turn away now and leave Kepler to his fate. If I run back to Tristan after we’re both safe, I’ll put him in their crosshairs.
I can save them both. I was born for this.
My father finally hands me off to Luca, who grips both of my wrists so hard that I gasp.
“Don’t worry about the chicken cutlets, babe,” Luca says.
He leers at my breasts. “Next month, I’ll get it taken care of.
Besides…” He leans closer, so that his lips brush my ear.
“I’m not going to have you until then, anyway.
What if you’re pregnant with that asshole’s bastard?
We need to get you tested. And douched.”
My hands ball into fists. Everything about this is wrong. I think of Violet, of Marley, of Knova. My new friends would never let anyone treat them this way.
I feel trivial and pathetic. Maybe because I am.
The priest clears his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”
Beloved. As if anyone I love is here. I sneak a glance toward the guests, where my father and sister sit in the front row. Father’s eyes are still dead and glassy, and Frankie’s wearing the shit-eating grin that I’ve come to expect. My mother is conspicuously absent.
Kepler whimpers in his cage. I wonder what people think. Do they think at all? Can everyone see what Luca’s doing to me? If they can, none of them care. Not one of them.
Who are these people? What made them so cold and subhuman?
I block everything out, mumbling incoherently every time Luca squeezes my wrists. He can control my body, but he can’t control my mind. I think back to every beautiful moment I spent with Tristan.
I wish I’d gotten to say goodbye.
The priest drones. “Does anyone present know of any reason why these two should not be married? If so, speak now or forever hold your—”
The doors at the back of the church slam open. The priest freezes. Everyone else swivels around in shock. When I see the face of the man who’s striding down the aisle, my knees give out altogether. I practically collapse at Luca’s feet.
Tristan. Tristan is here.
My father lurches to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?” His face contorts with fury as he moves to block Tristan’s approach.
Tristan doesn’t so much as glance his way. “I can think of a few reasons why this shouldn’t be happening. One, Luca Bianchi is a piece of shit. Two, Minerva is being coerced. And three… I’m in love with her. If she’s going to marry anyone in this life, it will be me.”
The words hit like sunlight breaking through stained glass—bright, impossible, meant for me.
Luca’s hands tighten over my wrists, and I finally gain enough composure to wrench away from him.
“Get out of here,” my father snarls. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I will not be disrespected in this manner…” His furious monologue trails off. Only then do I realize the familiar suited figure at Tristan’s back.
Dante is here. And he brought associates.
Tristan reaches my side and kneels beside me. He pulls me into his arms and lifts me out of Luca’s vicinity. My would-be husband lurches toward me, but Dante gets there first. He comes in swinging. His knuckles connect with Luca’s nose.
“What the fuck?” Luca lifts a hand to his bloody face.
“Language, son,” Dante purrs. “We’re in a church.” He shoves Luca aside to grab Kepler’s cage.
“What are you doing?”
“Nobody puts Cannoli in the corner.” Dante does a spin.
Kind of like Nancy Kerrigan but with Tanya Harding vibes.
He runs his free hand down his torso to smooth the wrinkles in his shirtfront.
“And in case you were unaware, Minerva is my goddaughter. Which means that nobody puts her in the corner, either.”
I wrap my arms around Tristan’s neck and nuzzle against his neck. “You came for me.”
“Did you doubt me?”
Something in my chest unlocks, a quiet click I feel in bone and breath: safety choosing me back. I shake my head, lost for words. Ever since I left Tristan’s, it’s been unbearable. I thought I would never see him again, but he risked pissing off Luca and my father to get me back.
Tristan lifts me into his arms, carrying me as if I’m his bride even though he’s wearing athleisure in the neon Venom colors.
Luca’s still sputtering by the altar, and the guests are tutting and whispering to one another.
I’m not worried about them, but the storm cloud on my father’s face is a familiar one.
I know what he’s capable of, even if Tristan doesn’t.
When he speaks, his voice trembles with barely repressed fury. I’ve seen what happens when that repression breaks. “Luca,” he snaps, “you were supposed to have this under control. And Dante, you’ve interfered for the last time.”
Dante strolls forward, still holding Kepler’s cage. “Careful, Vito. You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to because if you did, you’d know that I haven’t even begun to interfere. And you wouldn’t dare speak to me like this in the first place.”